Our Own Pretty Ways
by iambeagle
Summary: A story about a change of heart, taking chances, and finding out just how much you're willing to compromise for the one you love.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story was written for the Babies at the Border compilation. (Or more like I'd been writing this since 2013 and I finally found a way to complete it, and what better cause than this!) Thanks to the amazing group of ladies who put this all together - without y'all (and those who donated, of course!), the fandom wouldn't have been able to raise over $13,000.

Our Own Pretty ways is complete. No, I will not be expanding. I'm going to post in two separate chapters. Thanks to those who have already read it and sent some love, and thanks to those who are about to jump in. I appreciate you, I love you, and most of all I MISS YOU, GOD DAMMIT.

XXX

Our Own Pretty Ways

"I never want to have kids _._ "

I was eleven years old the first time I said those words. My friend was going to be a big sister and I couldn't see what everyone was so excited about. She went on about how when she grew up, she wanted two kids—only girls because boys smelled bad.

Her mother's smile was affectionate after my remark. "You will someday, sweetheart," she said assuredly.

Even then, I was sure _someday_ would never arrive.

I never played with dolls growing up. Instead, there was hide-and-seek and tag with the neighborhood boys. We'd hang out in the woods behind the school, climbing trees and riding our bikes. I wasn't interested in playing _house_ or pretending to be a mom with the girls in my class. That wasn't me.

 _I never want to have kids_.

I didn't speak those words again until I was fourteen. A mix-up with my schedule landed me in Home Economics the last semester of eighth grade. One of our end-of-year projects was to take home a fake baby and look after it over the weekend. We were expected to treat it like a real child—nurture it with love and attention, and take it with us wherever we went. When the ugly thing cried, we were supposed to insert a key into its back, and eventually it would stop. The teacher warned us that some internal device would record how long it took us to respond to the baby's cries, and that would determine our grade.

Since I was already resigned to failing the class, I hid the fake baby in the trunk of my mom's car when I got home later that afternoon. I didn't need to feign a maternal instinct to know what I was doing was wrong. But I didn't want to see it; didn't want to hear the shrill fake cry in the middle of the night.

My mom found it two days later when she went to load the car with groceries. My dad found the whole thing hilarious, even calling me cute. But my mother was livid.

"Do you not care about your education?"

I didn't know what the big deal was. "Only an idiot can fail the eighth grade," I pointed out, spooning ice cream into my mouth.

"That Newton boy isn't too bright," my dad added. "Isn't this his second year?"

"Charlie." My mother frowned as I gave my dad a small smirk. "What if this were a real baby, Bella?" she scolded. She was always angry about something, always finding something to fret over.

I laughed along with my dad. "But it's not," I reminded her.

She shook her head and stared in disbelief at my attitude. "Is this how you're going to treat _your_ child?"

"Gross, I don't want kids."

I don't remember how the rest of the conversation went, but I do remember being grounded for failing Home Ec.

Life went on.

I graduated high school, then college. I landed a job working for an independent publisher in Seattle. I had a small but close group of friends, none of which shared my sentiment over never wanting to be a parent, but loved me in spite of my "opposition to parenthood."

The night of my twenty-seventh birthday, my boyfriend of three years broke up with me. Riley ended it when we returned to my place after dinner. I was drunk, and he was too nice. He said it was him, of course it was him. We were at different places in our lives. Being almost thirty, he was ready for a family. My stomach dropped as he spoke about wanting kids, because I knew that was something I would never give him. Not because I couldn't, but because I didn't want to.

We'd only talked once or twice about the future, but it was clear we didn't want the same things. Being together was easier than being alone, though, so that's how three years passed.

I couldn't deny that I felt relieved when he walked out of my apartment that night. I was blindsided, of course, but I wasn't heartbroken.

When my mother heard about my break-up a week later, she was beside herself.

"Riley was the one for you, how did you not see that? He was stable."

"You can't possibly know that he was _the one_ for me, Mom. And right now, we're at different places in our lives." I echoed his words. "It's fine. I promise. It's going to be okay."

It was absurd. I wanted to laugh. I was the one who'd been broken up with, and there I was, consoling her.

She grew quiet, probably realizing exactly why we'd broken up without me having to actually explain. I knew I'd never hear the end of it.

"You're going to change your mind about being a mother, and it'll be too late," she insisted, voice hard. "Once you hit the right age, you'll feel it. You'll _crave_ it."

"I'm craving a hamburger right now," I joked. "Maybe I'm already pregnant."

"Isabella Marie Swan, this isn't funny. Do you know how many eggs you'll have left after you turn thirty?"

"I have twelve eggs in my fridge right now."

"You're being insensitive," she snapped.

"No, I'm not. I can't keep having this conversation with you," I sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you want me to say."

The line was silent, but then, "What do you have against being a mother? Did I do such a terrible job that you can't stand to become me?"

"You can't turn this around and make it about you," I muttered. "That's not fair."

"Then why, Bella? Tell me why you don't want to have children."

"I don't think I need to explain myself. When someone wants to have a baby, are they incessantly questioned about their reasons behind it?" I didn't wait for her to respond. "No. So I don't think I need to be questioned as to why I don't want one."

I hated that I had to constantly explain myself. It wasn't that I hated kids. That would be too easy. Sure, they were constantly sticky and whiny, but I could tolerate them. I just didn't like all the power that came with raising a child. The pressure of building someone's personality, hoping they turned out to be a good, well-rounded person.

I might have been the only one in my group of friends who didn't have kids, wasn't engaged or currently married, but most days it seemed as though I was the only one who was genuinely happy.

That was enough for me.

Nothing and no one had ever changed my mind.

"I just don't want to be a mother," I quietly admitted to my mom before I hung up.

I'd never been more sure about a single thing in my entire life.

And then I met Edward.

XXX

"I have someone I want you to meet."

It's the first thing Lauren says to me as she sits down at the tiny table tucked in the corner of the coffee shop. I've already ordered both of us coffee with whole milk, and croissants. I take a small bite of the flaky bread, then swallow. She stares expectantly, but I don't say anything. I'm not enthused with this news.

"Okay," she laughs, catching on, unwrapping the scarf from around her neck. "Why don't you want to meet him? I haven't even told you anything about the guy."

"It's too soon. It's only been six months since Riley and I split." I'm lying, though. Time doesn't have anything to do with it. This is about me being lazy and not wanting to put myself out there again.

"I'm not telling you to marry the guy."

With a shrug, I blow into my coffee before taking a sip. "I'm destined to be alone. I've come to terms with that. You should, too."

"You're being so dramatic!"

"I'm not dramatic. I'm realistic," I insist. "This guy and I will start dating. Things will be great, and I'll fall in love and then he'll realize I don't want kids and he'll dump me. I'm saving myself time and heartbreak."

Lauren shakes her head, narrowing her eyes. "You weren't in love with Riley," she points out. "You loved him, sure. But you weren't _in_ love." I stare at my plate, wondering if my feelings for Riley were transparent to him as well. "I didn't even tell you the best part," Lauren continues. "This guy doesn't want kids, either."

I snort. "He sounds perfect."

"Practically."

"Why aren't you dating him then?"

"I'm married to Tyler," she says flatly.

"Since when has that ever stopped anyone?"

She laughs lightly, her brown bob swaying as she shakes her head. "I'm _happily_ married. And I'm serious. This guy is a catch."

I frown at her words. "I hate it when people say that. _He's a catch_. What does that even mean?"

"It means he's thirty-one and single. He works with Tyler, so you know he has a decent income." I roll my eyes. An advisory manager working for Ernst and Young makes more than a _decent_ income. "He's extremely good looking, Bella. Great sense of humor," she adds. "He has a great smile."

"So he's loaded, knows how to crack a joke, and regularly visits the dentist," I list off. "Anything else?"

"I really think you'd like him."

The last of my croissant is in my mouth and I feel myself caving. "Maybe. What's his name?"

"Edward Cullen."

"And why doesn't this _Edward Cullen_ want kids?" I ask, curious. "If he's such a catch, why isn't he already taken?"

"I don't know why exactly. I've only had brief chats with him twice, so everything else I know is just gossip that I've heard from some of Tyler's co-workers' wives."

I wipe my mouth. "I hate those women. Delusional housewives."

"They're okay. You don't know them."

"Yeah, but _you_ don't trust them, so why would I want to?"

"Fair enough. But their gossip never fails to ring true. Remember when I heard that one of the partners was having an affair with an intern?"

My mouth drops open and my eyes are wide, but I'm only feigning shock. "Get out of town. The overweight, overpaid partner was sleeping with one of the interns? Quick! Call the tabloids."

Lauren's mouth twitches, but she stops herself from smiling. "Fine. Be a bitch. I'll set Edward up with someone more deserving." She gasps. "Oh, but wait. You're my only single friend."

"Aw, Laur," I whine. "That hurts."

She picks up her coffee, secures the strap of her purse on her shoulder, and stands from the table.

"It's been fun, but I gotta go."

"Are you mad because I won't let you set me up?"

She leans down, giving me a quick hug. "No. I have a doctor's appointment in an hour. You know how traffic is."

"Doctor's appointment?" I question, trying to keep an even tone.

My stomach drops as she pulls away. She's the last of my friends without a kid, and an extremely selfish part of me wants to keep it that way. There'd be no more happy hours or random midday coffee breaks.

"Not _that_ kind of appointment," she reassures. "I would've told you."

"Right. I know."

She promises to call me later, and I nod, watching her leave before I promptly open the Facebook application on my phone and type _Edward Cullen_ into the search bar.

A few profiles appear, but I click on the one that says _Lives in Seattle, Washington_.

From what I can gather, his hometown is Forks, Washington (never heard of it), he graduated from The University of Chicago (expensive), currently works at Ernst and Young (probably making a humble income of over 100k a year), and he has over 700 Facebook friends (no one needs that many online acquaintances).

On paper, he's not my type. It'd be easy to judge him and write him off as pretentious.

But then I stare long and good at his profile picture.

Lauren wasn't lying. He's incredibly good-looking. His hair is a shade of reddish-brown, and kind of a mess, completely clashing with the crisp white shirt he's wearing. But it kind of works for him. I guess. The photo is at a slight angle, showing off his strong jawline. I can tell his smile is genuine because his eyes are slightly squinting, like whoever was taking the picture caught him mid-laugh.

I have the strangest urge to know this man.

But since I'm neither completely desperate nor pathetic, I resist the temptation of asking him to be my Facebook friend.

I'll wait until Lauren brings him up again, and then I'll let her set me up with Edward Cullen.

XXX

Weeks pass.

I get swamped at work, which results in me ignoring my mother's calls, ignoring Riley's emails about wanting to talk, and ignoring Lauren's offers to meet up.

I'm having a late lunch with the agent of one of the children's authors we're working with when I see him walking across the restaurant.

 _Edward Cullen_.

It's the hair that catches my eye: messy in all the right places, bits and pieces sticking up every which way.

My eyes stay on him until he's sitting at a table near the back of the restaurant. From where I'm seated, I only have a view of his profile. I end up staring at him until the waiter brings me the check. I pay, thank the agent for her time, but can't quite remember a single detail from our lunch meeting. Well, nothing other than the fact that Edward ordered some type of pasta, is drinking white wine, and is animated when he speaks.

I stand from my chair, gaze flicking his way as I grab my purse and set my napkin on the table. I realize the bathroom is in that direction as well, so I make the quick decision to head that way.

It's not like I'm going to talk to him. I just want to see him up close.

I steal a few glances as I walk past his table. His head tips back slightly, and his laugh fills my ears. I try to listen, try to catch whatever it is he's saying, but someone speaks over him, drowning him out.

I hurry into the bathroom. I check my teeth for food and smooth my hair down. If I wore lipstick, now would be the time to apply it. But I don't, and I kind of regret it. Edward Cullen seems like he's into the type of woman who would wear lipstick.

Without another glance in the mirror, I head toward the exit and push the door open with more force than necessary.

I simultaneously feel the door make contact with an object and hear the word _ow_ being muttered.

"Shit, I'm sorry," I apologize to whomever I've just hit, steadying the door without opening it any further.

"You can come out. I promise not to press charges," the person says, thankfully sounding amused.

I carefully push the door open all the way, stepping out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit hallway until we're face to face.

And then he's _staring_ at me. Edward Cullen. It feels so weird to have his eyes on me when _mine_ were on him all throughout lunch.

I manage to give him a small, friendly smile. And Jesus, he's even better looking in person. His features are sharper, face alive and bright. His hair is thick, darker than in his profile picture. He's devastatingly handsome. It's the only way to put it.

We stand quietly for a moment before he clears his throat, eyes darting toward the men's room.

"I guess I'll…" he gestures past me, and we have an awkward dance of trying to pass one another.

"Right. Sorry. Go ahead." Moving aside, I nod politely. "Edward."

He stops, cocking his head a bit to the right, his friendly smile morphing into a smirk.

"What?" I ask, confused.

It takes a second to realize I've said his name before allowing him to divulge that information himself.

The embarrassment I feel is clear on my face, I'm sure of it.

"Do I know you?" he questions.

I feel like I could lie and say yes. The man _does_ have over 700 Facebook friends. How would he know if I were lying?

But a moment passes, and I decide to put my humiliation aside and come clean. I don't have time to form a lie that would sound halfway legitimate.

"Okay, without sounding like a creep—"

His laugh cuts me off. "Go on."

I hold my chin a little higher. "You work with my friend Lauren's husband, Tyler Larson."

His brows raise in understanding, but the smirk remains. "I'd remember you." From anyone else, it'd sound like a line, but from him it's all charm.

"We haven't exactly met." My cheeks begin to heat, and I wish he'd look away for at least a minute so I could think straight. "Alright. Look, I'm just going to be honest. Lauren mentioned you. She wanted to set us up. So I looked you up on Facebook. Sue me."

I don't know why blurting that out makes me feel better, but it does.

His eyes never leave my face. "Ah. I see. So not only am I pressing charges for assault, but now I have to sue you as well?"

He's teasing me, but I kind of appreciate it. It's making me feel like less of a stalker.

"I don't think the door incident will hold up in court," I say quickly.

With a widening smile, he slips his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

"What's your name? I only need it for the police report, I swear. I won't stalk you on Facebook."

I breathe out a laugh and shake my head. "Bella Swan."

"Bella Swan," he repeats, and I love the sound of my name being spoken from his lips. "Got it. And what about a phone number? In case I need to reach you, regarding the whole," he gestures between us, "thing."

I play along, trying to appear unaffected. "Right. Um. Do you have a card?"

He pulls out his phone from his pocket and hands it to me. I type my number in and give it back to him.

An awkward moment passes where neither of us says a word. We just stand here, smiling at one another. A blonde woman in a business suit walks past us and into the bathroom, and we break eye contact as we move out of her way.

Edward clears his throat, then reaches out to shake my hand. His grip is firm and his palm is warm. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Bella Swan," he says, taking one step closer.

"Likewise."

I pull my hand from his.

"Can I call you sometime?" he asks in a low voice.

"Well, I did give you my number under the impression that you'd use it."

"For things unrelated to..." He pauses.

"The thing."

"Yeah." His smile grows. "Like, tonight. Can I call you tonight?"

He's eager and his face is expectant. The woman who walked into the bathroom exits, giving us a quick glance.

"We're wrapping up, Edward," she says curtly before disappearing.

Edward shifts from foot to foot, waiting for my answer.

"Aren't you supposed to wait a few days before calling someone? I think that's what I've heard."

"But the thing is," he says, smiling slowly, "I don't think I want to wait."

"Then don't."

XXX

Edward called that night, just like he said he would. He asked me out, and it was easy to say yes. We went out to dinner the next night, and the night after that. Eventually one date turned into ten, which turned into falling in love so fast and so hard that years passed without either of us realizing. We loved the same things, shared the same group of friends, had the same views on life and neither of us wanted kids. He challenged me without pushing and loved me without conditions.

And then one day, he asked me to marry him, and just like before, it was easy to say yes.

We had a small wedding. Simple, despite his mother's insistence that we throw an extravagant affair. If it had been up to me, I would've run off with him and said _I do_ with no one else but us. But to some extent that's selfish, and after bringing up the idea more than once, Edward said he wanted to share the day with our friends and family. So that's what we did. And it was by far the best day of my entire life.

XXX

"Morning," Edward grumbles, walking into the kitchen. He places a sleepy kiss on my cheek before grabbing a mug. "Do you work late tonight?"

"Don't think so. What's up?"

He searches for milk in the fridge, throwing a playful glare my way when he realizes we're out and has to use creamer for his coffee.

"Tell me, tell me," I jokingly whine. "Why do you want to know if I'm working late? The suspense is killing me."

"Alice wants to know if we can watch the girls tonight."

My excitement deflates. "Such short notice."

"Well, their babysitter cancelled at the last minute, and it's their anniversary tonight."

"Drool and dirty diapers wasn't on my agenda, but I suppose we can do it." I'm mostly teasing. I'm crazy about our nieces. They're adorable, but that cuteness wears off after a few hours and I'm grateful when their parents steal them back.

Edward comes up behind me, nuzzling his face against my neck. "Want me to pick you up from work later?"

"Stop, stop, stop. You're going to get me all riled up and I have to leave in half an hour."

I feel his smile on my skin. "That's perfect. You know it never takes us that long."

His fingers trail up my thigh until I'm squirming and agreeing to jump back into bed before work.

The day is long, but it feels significantly longer when I remember I can't go home, throw on sweats, and drink wine on the couch. I meet Edward at his sister's house a little after seven, and find him in the kitchen with the girls.

"How about two more chicken nuggets," Edward compromises, nudging a pink plastic plate towards Avery's tiny hands. The baby, Stella, is sitting on his knee, holding a sippy cup full of milk.

"You eat them," Avery fires back. She's only six, but sassy beyond belief. Stella spots me in the doorway, cooing at my arrival.

"Hey, babe," I say, giving Edward a quick peck on the lips.

"Ewwww," Avery whines, covering her eyes.

"Two more nuggets," Edward says, ignoring her disgust.

"Dontcha know I'm not allowed to eat McDonald's," she says coolly. "Mom is going to be so mad, like so mad like that one time when you gave us Burger King."

I laugh at this. "You're a kid. Eat McDonald's while you still can," I say, stealing some of her fries.

Edward hands Stella to me, then claps his hands together. "All right. It's a race, then. Whoever finishes first gets a cookie."

"What about a brownie?" Avery suggests, smiling coyly. "Mommy's cookies are gluten-free and so, so yucky."

"Fine. Brownie it is."

"This is a bad idea," I say, wincing as Stella pulls on my hair. "What if one of you chokes?"

"Then the other will get the brownie," Edward says jokingly.

After their eating contest is over and they've both devoured their brownies, we give Avery a bath and hang out in her room. She decides to read us books instead of the other way around, trying to impress us with her reading skills. It's so insane to me how smart she already is.

When Avery is passed out and the baby is content in her crib, Edward and I lounge on the couch, exhausted.

"It's moments like this when I'm grateful we don't have kids," I say, yawning against his chest.

He rubs my back. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm so exhausted. How would I ever get anything done? Seriously, I don't know how Alice does it. Props to her."

"You'd have time. Alice has time."

I hum, shaking my head. "I'm pretty sure she doesn't shave her legs. Or her armpits."

"I think that's more of a personal choice than the outcome of time restriction."

"Well _personally_ , I think my hygiene is more important than procreation. Sorry, Alice."

Edward laughs. "Okay. So you never think about maybe, someday, having kids?"

"No."

"Never?"

"No. You know this," I accuse, sitting up. "This is a conversation we've had before."

"Yeah, years ago. When we first met. When having a family wasn't something I could even fathom. But now that I have nieces, I don't know. You never think maybe?"

I feel my forehead crease as I frown. "No. Not even maybe."

Edward regards me for a minute, then presses a kiss to my lips. "Okay."

"What do you mean _okay_?"

He kisses me again, but this time I can feel him smile. I don't know why he thinks this is so funny.

"This is a huge deal to me," I mutter between kisses. "Not to mention a huge deal-breaker. This is why we're together."

He laughs at this. "Jesus, Bella, no it's not. We're together because we're in love."

"We only fell in love after we realized neither of us wanted kids." I know this isn't true, but now I'm just trying to be an ass. This conversation doesn't bring out the best in me, and he knows this.

"That's not how it worked for me. I loved you long before we ever talked about kids," he says earnestly. "And I love you so much that if you ever changed your mind, I wouldn't be mad at you for it."

Lying back down next to him, I tangle my fingers in his hair, and tell him I wouldn't be mad at him if he changed his mind, either. It's the first time I've ever lied to him.

XXX

The topic of babies doesn't come up again until a week later, when I'm out for drinks with Lauren. The plan was for us to meet up with Edward and Tyler, but since they have to work late, we're waiting on them. Which means we're indulging in too much liquor and gossip.

"Did you hear Jessica's pregnant?" Lauren asks when we're two drinks in. I'm grateful she waits until my blood is mostly tequila because I don't think I could handle this conversation without some help.

"With what, her tenth kid?"

"Fourth," Lauren corrects with a snort. "She keeps talking to me about my ovulation schedule. She also claims she knows her body so well that she knew every time she was pregnant without having to use a test."

"Good for her, those suckers are pricey."

"Like you've ever bought one before."

"I have! Once. Many, many years ago."

"You've never told me this!"

I shrug. "Nothing to tell. Obviously."

"Speaking of pregnancy…"

Her words sober me. I'm suddenly serious, but then I glance at her third cocktail. If she were pregnant, there's no way she'd be drinking.

"I'm not pregnant. Not yet, anyway."

"But you guys are trying to get pregnant," I guess.

"We're not _not_ trying to get pregnant," she tells me with a small shrug. "I've been off birth control for a few months now, but it could still take a while. I assumed it would just happen so easily, but joke's on me, I guess."

I hold back from making an exaggerated face that shows my disapproval. "God, that must be weird."

"What?"

"I mean, I've spent my entire life avoiding getting pregnant. Taking all the precautions. Condoms, birth control, the ole pull-and-pray. So I feel like it would be weird to just... not try to be safe."

"Oh, but I thought at one point you _weren't_ safe. Hence the pregnancy test."

I flip her off. "The condom broke."

She laughs, shaking her head a bit. "I guess the whole not being safe thing doesn't feel as weird when it's with your husband. And when you have a plan. And when you really, really want a baby."

I take a long sip of my margarita. The waitress comes by our table and we tell her we're okay for now. I drink a glass of water, needing my head to just _stop_ : stop thinking about my friend getting pregnant and stop feeling sorry for myself because of it.

Soon enough, Edward and Tyler arrive. The mood is lifted again. We order food and a few more drinks, steering clear of conversation involving ovulation and pregnancy. Instead, we talk about the renovations Lauren and Tyler are having done to their house, and mine and Edward's idea to travel to Aruba in November.

A little after ten, Edward and I walk through our front door. We moved a few months before we got married, leaving our downtown condo for a place in Wallingford. We weren't looking for a house, mostly townhomes in Belltown so we could both be close to where we work.

But once I saw it, I fell in love. I didn't care if was built in the twenties. It didn't matter that the tile in the kitchen was checkered black and white or that the spare bedroom's door didn't shut all the way. There was a large front porch, a wall of windows in the living room, and hardwood floors that made the room glow when the sun was setting. We had a yard, more room than we knew what to do with, and were only a ten minute drive to downtown, without traffic.

Of course, when we moved in, my mom brought up the topic of what to do with the extra bedroom. Multiple times she hinted at us having kids, but we always reminded her that that wasn't on our agenda.

"I'm gonna go wash my face," I tell Edward, kissing his cheek as he fills the coffee pot with water. "You gonna lock up?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a sec."

I head upstairs, get ready for bed, then crawl under the blanket. Edward walks into the room, smiling at me.

"Are you drunk?" he asks, shutting the door behind him.

"Maybe," I grin. "I'm mostly just tired now."

I watch him take off his cuff links and set them on the dresser. He loosens his tie, then sits on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes.

"Sorry Tyler and I got there late."

"That's okay. It was nice to catch up with Lauren." I yawn. Edward finds my leg under the blanket and gently squeezes it. "They're gonna try to have a baby. Did Tyler tell you that?"

"No."

"I need to start looking for new friends," I joke.

Edward doesn't laugh, though, and almost sounds a bit defensive when he asks, "What? Why?"

"Because we'll never see them. They're never going to have any free time."

"I don't really think that's fair." He stands from the bed, removes his shirt and slacks and tosses them on the floor, next to the hamper. "Tons of couples who have kids still live their lives the same."

Instead of pointing out that the hamper is literally five inches away, I ask, "Why are you getting so defensive over this?"

He frowns, crawling into bed. "I'm not."

"You are."

"I just don't think you should be throwing scenarios around when you don't know what's going to happen. Lauren and Tyler don't have a kid yet, so you don't know what's going to happen. Everything could stay the same."

"But what if things don't stay the same?" I ask, sitting up.

He props a hand behind his head, appearing to stay calm as my blood begins to heat. "If things change, then that's life. You just go with it."

"So if I got pregnant you'd just _go with it._ "

"If it wasn't planned, of course I would just go with it. You're my _wife_ , Bella. Having a kid wouldn't be the end of the world."

"Well that's not going to happen," I say adamantly. "We've already decided."

His nod is solemn. "Okay."

"I mean, what?" I push, not satisfied with his single-worded acceptance. "Are you having second thoughts? Do you suddenly want kids?"

"No." He thinks for a minute. "But I'm not completely against the idea. I don't know. Sometimes I think it'd be nice. We have all this room. But sometimes I'm happy it's just us."

"Having extra space isn't a reason to have a kid."

"Maybe it's not. But I think you'd be a great mom."

"But I don't _want_ to be a mom," I say harshly, letting the words hang in the air.

Neither of us says anything else, because the conversation is over and we both know it. Edward turns off the lamp and we roll over, facing opposite ways. I don't know how everything escalated so quickly. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe I was getting defensive because Edward has always been on my side. He's always shared the same views on children and now it feels like he's against me.

When my eyes have adjusted to the dark, I feel Edward move to lie on his back.

"I love you, Bella. Can't we just… talk about this?"

He whispers the words, but I pretend I'm already asleep.

XXX

It takes a couple of days, but the tension between Edward and me finally dissipates, and things go back to normal. He doesn't mention anything about kids again, but I get the feeling the subject's not completely out of his mind. He never outright says he wants to have a baby, but he offers to watch his nieces more, and sometimes when we pass a family on the street, I catch him staring fondly at them.

I don't bring any of this up to him because I don't want to start an argument. And quite frankly, I'm scared to death. If Edward changes his mind and wants a baby, that means he's changed his mind about me. And that's too devastating for me to deal with. So I smile and act like everything's okay, and pretend to be excited when Tyler and Lauren finally announce they're expecting in the Fall.

XXX

"So we finally booked our trip," I tell Lauren one evening, when Tyler and Edward are both working late. We've been posted up on her couch for hours watching old episodes old episodes of Sex and the City.

"Aruba?"

"Yep. Second week in November."

She pauses the show, staring at me with hurtful eyes.

"I have a month until I'm due. The baby is coming at the end of October," she says, like I haven't already known this for a while.

"I know."

"But you can't _leave_."

"Why not?" I'm not the one having a baby. I'm not the one ruining my life and turning everything upside down.

"Because I'll need you," she mumbles through tears. "You know I'm not close with any of Tyler's family. They're all pretentious assholes. And my mother is _gone_ , and my sister can't come because she has her own kids to take care of. And you can't leave."

When she mentions the absence of her mother, I begin to tear up.

"I don't think that's fair. I'll be here the first two weeks. You'll be _fine_ ," I stress.

"I don't feel like I'll be fine. I feel like I'm going crazy. And Tyler's always working late, he's no help at all."

"This isn't _my_ baby," I say, trying to keep my tone even. "I shouldn't have to change my life. You and Tyler made this decision. I'll help you out, and you know I'll love this kid, but I can't put my life on hold for something I don't believe in."

"Don't believe in?" she echoes. "It's a _baby_ for crying out loud. Not a religion."

"I don't believe in the concept of being a mother, raising a kid and giving up your individuality. That doesn't make sense to me."

"Okay. Go live your selfish, unfulfilling life, Bella."

"What? Lauren, get a hold of yourself. When have you ever judged me for not wanting kids?"

"Always."

"You never said anything."

"Well I lied. It's selfish. It's not fair to Edward."

I don't know how much of this she actually believes or how much is spurred on by hormones. But still, my face is flushed and I'm on the verge of tears because her words ignite something inside of me. She's always been on my side.

"Don't talk to me about what's fair to Edward. Long before we got married we decided we didn't want to have kids. It wasn't a surprise. It's not like—"

"Edward wants kids," she says quickly. "He talked to Tyler about it. And Tyler told me."

This silences me. I can't say anything to refute what she's said. Edward hasn't mentioned anything to me about kids for a while. Which means he's been talking to Tyler about it. Behind my back. Making me look bad because I'm withholding children from him.

"Bella—"

Standing from the couch, I shake my head and pull on my boots, rushing to leave. I hate that she's decided to throw this in my face during a fight instead of coming to me with genuine concern. It just goes to show how much has changed within these last eight months.

It just goes to show that everyone is against me.

XXX

"But I don't wanna be a princess!"

Avery's bottom lip begins to quiver, and I swear to God if she starts crying in the middle of the store, I'm going to lose my mind and cry along with her. We've been here for almost an hour and she's turned down every Halloween costume I've suggested.

"Then don't be a princess," I say simply. With Stella bouncing on my hip, I grab a nearby dinosaur costume and muster as much enthusiasm as I can. "Be a dinosaur."

"Dinosaurs are for boys."

I frown. "No, they aren't."

"Yes-huh."

"Why do you think that?"

"Mama said I couldn't be a ghost because it's scary and for boys. Are dinosaurs for boys, too, Aunt Bella?"

"Definitely not. In fact, that's really narrow-minded of your mother to stereotype—" I stop myself. "Avery, you can be whatever you want to be. Okay?"

She beams. "Really?"

I wince as Stella yanks on my hair. "Yes."

"I wanna be a bad guy!" she squeals. "I want a gun and dynamite to blow things up, and—"

Alice is going to kill me.

Avery runs ahead of me, through the crowd, seeming to remember where the fake guns are. She's smaller and can get through everyone faster. I apologize to people as I walk down the aisle, holding on to Stella. When I make it to the end, Avery's gone. I call out her name but nothing. People rush past me and other kids run by me, but they aren't my niece. I try not to panic, because of course she's still here. I literally just saw her.

"Um, excuse me?" I stop a woman walking by who's wearing a name tag. "Have you seen a little girl? Brown hair, ponytail. She was wearing, uh… um…" The woman shakes her head, Stella begins to cry, and _goddammit_.

"Avery!" I call again, half-running through the store, checking nearby aisles.

I don't want to resort to calling Alice. Not yet. Because I can do this. I'm capable of looking after a child.

But the longest three minutes ever pass by, and nothing.

Panic courses through me as I think of the worst-case scenario. I can't help it. I've never been that great under pressure. I try to stay calm but the store is loud and there are so many people and she was _right there_. She was right there. How did I let her out of my sight?

I move Stella to my other hip and pull out my phone, calling Edward. He picks up on the third ring. Before he can greet me, I begin crying.

"I think I lost Avery."

"What? Hey, calm down. Where are you?"

"We're costume shopping. She was right there and I fucking lost her."

"Okay. Shit. Are you at the place on Denny?"

"Yeah."

"I'm on my way. How long has she been gone?"

"A few minutes? Ten? I don't know, I don't know."

"Go to customer service. Have the employees check around the store. It'll be fine, all right?"

"But what if—"

"Bella, it's okay."

We hang up and I head straight to a cashier. I wipe my face and stumble through my words, but she gets the gist of it. She makes an announcement over the intercom, explaining what Avery looks like. But I don't remember what she was wearing and I don't know what color her eyes are and I'd be a terrible mother.

The cashier has me stay by the register as she and a few other employees search the store. And sure enough, a few minutes later they come back, Avery in tow. She's crying. She looks so scared and small and I can't believe I fucking lost her.

"Why did you leave me!" she cries, but still runs toward me, grabbing onto my legs.

I mutter apologies and thank the employees before leaving the store. Once we're outside, Edward runs up, relief clear on his face as he sees we're all here. Avery runs toward him this time and he picks her up in his arms, holding her against his chest.

"I'm so sorry," I mumble, feeling a new wave of tears come on. "I don't know what happened."

"Hey, it's fine. It happens." He kisses my temple, my cheek, my lips. "Who wants ice cream, huh?"

The girls' moods are immediately lifted, but I can't be swayed so easily, staying in a funk until we get back to their house. The first thing Avery does is tell her parents, with a huge smile, that Aunt Bella lost her in the store today. Edward takes the girls to play in the backyard as I retell the story. Alice and Jasper are so understanding and don't seem to really think it's a huge deal. Alice recalls a time where she lost Avery in the grocery store, when she was three. But still. I can't stop beating myself up.

Just after six, Edward and I say our goodbyes and head out. Alice instructs me to get a bottle of wine on the way home and to forget about it.

"Bell?" Edward's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"What should we get for dinner?"

"Oh. Um… whatever. I don't care."

He focuses on the road, and I stare out the window, remembering how great he was with the girls today. I realize how wonderful of a father he would make, which forces me to replay Lauren's words—that I'm selfish and not being fair to Edward.

"How were you so calm today?"

"I don't know." When he stops at a red light, he looks over at me, smiling softly. "I didn't want to let myself get worked up over something if it was nothing."

"Right. But Avery was lost. Someone could've taken her."

He squeezes my hand before grabbing the wheel again. "But they didn't."

"Well. I'd clearly make a terrible mother. Good thing neither of us wants kids."

It's petty, I know. It's shitty of me to finally bring up the conversation I had with Lauren. But it's been a week since I've spoken to her, and keeping all of this from my husband has been extremely hard. I didn't want to make it a thing, tried writing it off as Lauren's hormones speaking.

When Edward doesn't speak up, I go on. "Or do you secretly want kids? Didn't you tell Tyler that? Behind my back?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Lauren said you told Tyler you want kids. And since I don't, it's not fair to you and you think I'm selfish."

"Come on. I never said that. I would never say that about you. You're my wife. Whatever decision we make is one we make together. I'd never hold anything against you. You know that."

"So you didn't tell Tyler that you want kids?"

I stare at his profile, but he stares at the road. He's quiet and contemplating, and I need to hear him say it.

"I didn't say the stuff about it not being fair or you being selfish. But I might've said something along the lines of maybe wanting kids someday."

My eyes burn. I can't look at him anymore. _I_ _knew it._

"So now I'm the bad guy," I mumble.

"I didn't say that."

"Well it's true. You suddenly want kids and I'm never going to give them to you."

He pulls into the driveway, kills the engine, and we sit in silence.

"I just want to be able to talk to you about this without you getting upset," he says carefully.

"And I want you to stop changing your fucking mind."

I get out of the car, slamming the door. I rush inside, throw my things on the floor, open some cabinets and slam them shut. It doesn't take long for Edward to find me in the kitchen; doesn't take long for us to pick up where we left off.

"Is it so bad that I want to have kids with you, Bella? Is that really the worst thing you can imagine?"

"Yes."

He swallows thickly. "I don't think you believe that."

"Don't tell me what I believe."

"I think you're scared, and that's okay." He cautiously steps toward me. "I'm scared, too. But if we do this together, it's a hell of a lot less terrifying."

"I don't want kids, Edward. You know this. Why are you trying to change me?"

"I'm not trying to change you. I'm trying to change _with_ you. Jesus Christ. Can't you see that? This isn't just about me."

"And _I_ think it's just about me?"

I see the realization in his eyes when he understands what I'm asking, and he takes the bait.

"I do think you're being selfish," he finally agrees. "You won't talk to me about this, or even consider it."

"We're talking about it!" I shout. "But why do I have to consider something when we already decided years ago that we weren't going to have kids?"

"Because that's what you do when you're married!" he yells back. "You make compromises!"

"Sacrifices," I correct, shaking my head.

He laughs humorlessly, taking a small step back. "If having a kid with me is such a huge sacrifice to you, Bella, then what the hell are you even doing here?"

"Fuck you."

Once the words are out, he grows silent, distant. We don't speak to each other like this. Not ever. But I said it, and what's worse is that I meant it. He pushed me to this moment and I can't take it back.

"No. Fuck _you_ , Bella."

We stand here, red-faced and breathless, staring at one another. Seconds pass and the longer we stay silent, the more I fume. The more I contemplate leaving. The more I fear that he's going to be the first to leave.

"You're right," I say with quiet determination. "I don't know what I'm doing here."

I give him a cold glare as I walk out of the kitchen and up to the bedroom. I expect him to stay downstairs, give me space, but he doesn't. He follows after me, lingers in the doorway, waits for my next move.

"Where are the suitcases?" I ask, digging through the closet.

"You're not leaving."

I check under the bed. "Yes, I am. What the hell am I even doing here, right?"

"I didn't mean that, I just… I don't want you to leave. Okay? Please."

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes to keep from crying. I don't want to leave my house or my husband. I don't want to be the cliche versions of ourselves. I don't want to take this step in becoming a statistic.

"Bella." I hear him shuffle, feel him move closer before he gently places his hands on the sides of my arms. "Look at me."

"What?" I mumble, dropping my hands. "We just need some space, okay?" His face falls and my voice breaks as I shrug out of his grip. "I'm gonna go. Just for the night."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. A hotel?"

"I'll leave," he suggests. "I'd feel better if you stayed here."

"No. I need to… not be here."

"You don't think we should talk about this?"

"I think we both really need to think about what we want. And what we expect. Because I don't want to feel guilty for the rest of my life. I _can't_."

His nod is solemn as he leaves the room. I pull out some clothes, holding back my tears when he walks back in and tosses a duffel bag on the floor.

"Call me when you get there. Just to say you made it. Okay?"

"Okay."

He disappears and I allow myself three minutes to cry. Three minutes to feel sorry for myself and this situation. Three minutes to wallow and convince myself to stay. But when I replay our fight, pride gets in the way. And that's what pushes me to leaving my husband.


	2. Chapter 2

_Just for the night_ turns into four days.

Four days without sleeping in the same bed as my husband. Four days without goodnight kisses. Four days without finding my toothbrush on the counter, toothpaste already on the bristles, because he woke up before me and wanted to be sweet.

Despite talking on the phone every day, we don't speak longer than a few minutes and it's never anything more than superficial conversation. And once, just once, did he ask when I was going to coming home.

Maybe he doesn't want to push. And maybe if he _did_ push, I'd pull further away.

Even so. It still hurts when I wake up and don't have a call from him, begging for me to come home. And I wonder if maybe he feels the same way when he realizes I'm not begging to go back.

XXX

When Alice's name appears on my phone, I'm not surprised. What _is_ surprising is that she hasn't contacted me sooner.

I think about not answering her call, but then the neurotic part of me—the one that wants to make sure nothing's happened to Edward—kicks in and I hit _accept._

"Hey, Alice."

"So I know this is super last minute," she says, out of breath, shushing a screaming Stella. "Can you watch the girls at five? Just for an hour and a half, maybe two."

I glance at my watch. It's almost three. I was going to get lucky and get out of the office at a decent hour. So I _could_ watch them. But the pridefully petty side of me doesn't want to.

"Can Edward do it?" I ask. It's my subtle way of figuring out if Alice even has the slightest clue about what's going on right now.

"He didn't answer."

"Well—"

"Bella, please. I have an appointment, and I totally forgot about it because my brain is just, ugh. I'm losing it. And I just need your help. Please."

"Okay. I'll be there soon. Just know that desperation doesn't suit you."

"Thank you," she says with a small laugh. "I owe you."

As suspected, I'm able to sneak out of the office a little early, putting off any emails until tomorrow morning. And as promised, I head straight to Alice and Jasper's place, arriving a couple of minutes before five.

When I pull next to the curb, I take a minute to breathe, reminding myself not to act weird. Everything is fine. All I have to do is act like I haven't been sleeping in a hotel for close to a week now.

A sad, drooping pumpkin sits on their porch. It's wilted, on the verge of molding, and maybe Edward was right when he told me we were carving it too soon. That it wouldn't last until Halloween.

He was right. I was wrong. And the anger of that realization flares inside me.

I knock twice before letting myself in the house. The girls don't run to greet me, which probably means they're watching TV. My suspicions are proved correct when I round the corner and see them engrossed in some show, which bounces between talking, animated animals and clips of real animals.

"See? I told you I owed you," Alice says, pulling me in for a hug. "They never get to watch TV during the week."

"You're a saint." I smile, teasing. "You're doing it wrong, though. That show's not rotting their brain. It looks… educational."

"I know, I know," she says, moving around me to quickly pull on her coat. "I'll only be gone an hour. Probably. Avery can eat whatever, and I already made a plate for Stella with her finger foods. It's in the fridge." She grabs her purse, blows hair out of her face. "Love you, girls!" she calls out, then she's gone. Which never happens. She usually takes a good twenty minutes to get out the door when Edward and I are here.

I try not to dwell on how weird that was as I plop down on the couch next to Avery.

"What are you watching?"

She doesn't answer. So I try Stella. I gently tug on her baby pony-tail, and she coos before crawling into my lap.

"Ba-ba," Stella says, looking at me, then the TV.

"Are you trying to say Bella? Bel-la," I say, slower this time.

Nothing. I'm invisible. Part of me wants to let them keep watching because they're a hell of a lot more calm this way, but another part wants to shut it off and make them entertain me with their adorable selves.

A couple of minutes later, the show ends.

"Another!" Avery squeals.

"Ah. I think the internet went out." I turn off the TV and set Stella on the floor by my feet. "Let's go outside."

Avery's not buying it. "We don't need the internet 'cause that show was on regular TV, not Apple TV."

I miss the days when I could outsmart her. "Let's go outside for a few minutes and then we can watch one more."

"What does Sissy think?" Avery asks. Stella babbles and smiles. "I think she wants to go outside. But first I have to show you the picture I drew today! Mommy even put it on the fridge 'cause I'm an artist."

"Amazing. Let's go see it."

I pop Stella on my hip and follow a proud Avery into the kitchen. She gently pulls her drawing off the fridge and holds it up. "This is my family. You're in it, too. See!"

There are many stick figures on the paper. So yes, I see, but I can't tell which one I am. Not until she points me out.

"My best friend is in it, too, because friends can be family sometimes. You know?"

I try not to cry or think of Lauren and how she's due in a couple of weeks, or how a six-year-old knows more about treasuring friendship than I do.

"Where are you?" I ask, tapping her nose.

"I'm in the tree. See! And there's the baby in mommy's belly. He's still so, so tiny and needs to grow more before he can be our brother!"

This makes me pause. Because yes, kids comes up with lots of things sometimes. Just a month ago she was telling me that a squirrel jumped through her window and punched her in the eye. But this just… doesn't feel like something Avery would make up.

"You're going to have a baby brother?" I question, trying to keep my demeanor calm. And I _am_ calm. I'm happy for Alice and Jasper. If they want more kids, that's wonderful. They're amazing parents, and have the best kids.

But then I start to wonder. If maybe this is why Edward started to change his mind. I wonder if he knew and didn't tell me. I wonder if they've all been in on this and if me coming over here to watch the girls was some sort of… scheme so I'd give into the whole idea of having kids.

My thoughts spiral, and I wonder if Alice and Jasper, and all of Edward's family, to be honest, think I'm not good enough for him because I won't give him kids.

The thought is enough for me to up and leave. But I wouldn't do that. Of course I wouldn't leave the girls. That wouldn't just be fucking awful, that would be stupid because they have nothing to do with this. So I make them dinner and tell them silly jokes, because being a kid means you get to be oblivious when another person's world is crumbling around you.

When it's half past six, Edward walks through the door. His tie is off, the top button of his shirt is undone, and the exhaustion he wears is more than I've seen on him in a while. But he still manages a smile for the girls and doesn't protest when Avery tackles him.

It's almost like he avoids my eyes for the first minute he's in the room, distracting himself with the girls. But when he finally finds my gaze, he doesn't let go.

"Hey," he mumbles, rubbing his eyelid with the heel of his hand.

"Can we jump on the trampoline?" Avery all but screams.

Edward looks to me, like I'm the one with all the answers. I don't really have the energy to play with them, especially not when I want to talk to Edward. So I remind them they have one more show to watch, and their attention is immediately diverted.

We stand in the doorway of the living room, just out of earshot, but close enough so we can see them.

"You don't have to stay," Edward says in a hushed voice, keeping his distance.

"Oh."

"Alice and Jasper are on their way home."

"I can wait," I say with a clipped tone. "Don't want to miss the news that they're having a boy."

He gives me a strange look. "What?"

"What? This wasn't a whole scheme to get me to come over here and play house and get us back together?"

"I had nothing to do with you coming here. I didn't even know you were here until I got a text from Alice twenty minutes ago." His frown deepens. "And I didn't fucking realize we weren't together," he whispers harshly.

It'd be so easy for me to reply with something snarky, to keep this going. But then I realize the exhaustion he's wearing is _pain_. He doesn't even try to hide it—isn't trying to pretend he's not miserable.

And it kills me. My chest aches, and any anger I felt is gone, replaced with shame. So I hold back from resorting to low blows and words neither of us can take back.

"I'm sorry," I say, meaning it, yearning for him to understand that I don't want it to be like this. "I didn't mean it like that. It just kind of came out, and—"

"Forget it," he murmurs.

I try to. I really do. And maybe he does, too.

We watch the girls in silence for a minute or two before he speaks again.

"I didn't know Alice was pregnant," he admits.

"Well this is according to Avery."

"And she's always a reliable source," he says, the corner of his mouth slightly lifting. "Didn't she say a squirrel punched her in the eye?"

I nod, smiling a little, and then we're laughing. Together. And it's like the past week of anger and hurt and being prideful has evaporated. Because it's easy to justify being upset when I'm alone. But standing in front of him and seeing him and longing to touch him… it's just easier to be ourselves again.

"When are you coming home?" he says, breaking the silence we've fallen into.

I study his face, the sincerity that his expression holds, and I know I don't have to ask, but, "Do you want me to come home?"

He reaches out and grabs my shoulders, bending his knees a bit so he's staring me straight in the eye. "Of course I want you to come home. You know I do."

"I want to, too," I confess, grabbing at his collar, tugging him closer. "I'll come back tonight. But things aren't okay. Not yet. We still need to figure this out."

"I know," he says quietly, dropping his head against mine. "You can't leave me like that again. Okay?"

"Okay."

We hold each other tighter than we have in a while. And as we stand here, breathing in and out, murmuring apologies and _I love you_ s, I use every ounce of hope in my bones to promise myself that we'll figure this out.

XXX

The days following our fight are _easy_.

After I move back in, we don't talk about our disagreement. We don't touch on the sensitive subject, because it was easier not to. So instead of talking it out, we both become our best selves again. Attentive. Agreeable. Both desperate not to get to that place we were a week ago.

It's easy as we busy ourselves with work and getting ready for our upcoming trip to Aruba. It's easy, and nothing feels forced. Nothing with Edward ever feels forced.

Except for the one topic we're actively trying to avoid.

And avoid it, we do. As long as we can.

XXX

It's early in the morning, before my alarm sounds, that my phone rings. I reach for it, eyes still closed. Tyler had called yesterday, letting us know they were on their way to the hospital. And despite the fact that Lauren and I haven't spoken since our fight nearly a month ago, I find myself desperate to know what's going on, wanting to stay updated on her progress.

I answer, and Tyler let's me know that the baby's finally here. He says Lauren's good, a bit out of it, though, and that we can come by the hospital between eleven and one.

I congratulate him before hanging up, promising we'll be by later today.

"Was that Ty?" Edward asks, rolling over to face me.

"Yeah." I yawn. "Leave it to Tyler and Lauren to have a Halloween baby."

"Boy or girl?"

"He didn't say. Maybe it's a pumpkin."

Edward's laugh is low and sleepy. "Everything's good though?"

"I think so." I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. "I think I'm gonna take today off. Or at least go in late. Do you want to go to the hospital with me?"

"Of course." He moves closer, kissing my neck before rolling out of bed and hopping into the shower.

XXX

I hate hospitals. I always have. It's a shared opinion among most people, I'm sure. But I don't hate them just because they're sterile and cold and filled with diseases. I despise them because they remind me of my grandmother and her battle with cancer a few years ago. They remind me that you can be in the best place to help you survive, yet you can still die.

Edward and I share the elevator with a man who looks less than thrilled to be here. I try to keep my gaze away from his general area, but it's hard not to stare at someone who radiates the kind of sadness that dwells in your bones.

The elevator slows, reaches our floor, and I tighten my grip on the balloon strings. Three of them float above us—one for a girl, one for a boy, and one jack-o-lantern, just because. I meet the man's eyes before I step out and give him the briefest of smiles. He doesn't return the gesture, but I don't expect him to.

I was already nervous, but now I'm even more on edge, filled with memories of my last visit here. Edward's hand finds mine, and with a small, reassuring squeeze from him, I tell myself that I can do this.

We follow signs and head toward the room number that Tyler texted us earlier. The door is half-open, but Edward knocks anyway, to announce our presence.

"Hey, guys!" Tyler greets, reaching out to envelope us both in a hug. He's beaming, the epitome of a man who just became a father and has it all.

"Congratulations," I say, smiling, awkwardly handing him the balloons while Edward sets the vase of flowers on a nearby table, which is already filled with a few other bouquets.

Lauren sits up a little in the bed, giving me a gentle smile as I make my way toward her.

"Hi," I say carefully, keeping my distance. She's wearing a hospital gown, but her makeup is done and she looks… normal. Not like she just spent the last eighteen hours giving birth.

Her gaze drifts past me, over to the guys. "Ty, will you go get the nurse and have her bring the baby in?"

Tyler nods, taking Edward along with him so Lauren and I are alone. I wonder if this was the plan, to give the two of us a second alone to make sure things are okay between us.

"You have a baby," I start off, which feels funny and forced. "How'd everything go?"

"Awful, but amazing," she laughs, tears brimming her eyes. "In the scheme of things, everything went as planned. But it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. And when I finally held him, it just…"

"I had a feeling you were gonna have a boy." I don't know why I say this, because it's not an actual thought I've ever had. I think about taking it back, but I don't know. Maybe I'm desperate to make up with her, desperate to grasp on and keep her my best friend a little longer before she becomes a mom.

"What's his name?" I ask.

"Tyler wants to name him Jack because of his Halloween birthday, but I'm not sold yet."

"Like jack-o-lantern?" This makes me laugh, but it's sweet. "That might be perfect."

" _He's_ perfect. It's amazing, Bella… what our bodies can endure. I was in so much pain, but when the nurse handed him to me, seriously… it all disappeared. Like it never happened. I just had this perfect baby. It was all worth it. All of it."

She starts crying, uncontrollably now. And I don't know what to do. I can't relate, can't comfort her. Because _is_ she supposed to be comforted? Or congratulated? I can't tell if she's upset or happy, or crying just because.

"Lauren? I'm sorry," I blurt out, wanting to get this over with, still not sure if _I_ should be the one apologizing. "I'm sorry for getting so defensive a few weeks ago. I just…"

She wipes at her eyes, shaking her head. "I haven't even thought about it. You don't need to be sorry."

I pick at the skin around my thumb, feeling stupid for dwelling on something she hasn't even _thought_ about. Because _I couldn't let it go_. To be honest, I still haven't really let it go. She'd called me selfish, claimed Edward said some pretty shitty things behind my back, and I fucking left my husband because of it. And things still aren't okay, not really. And _she hasn't even thought about it_.

There's rage, an embarrassment swelling inside me, but my thoughts are interrupted when the nurse walks in, wheeling a tiny plastic crib into the room. Lauren's attention is diverted as the nurse hands over the baby.

The room is quiet as we all stare at the new mom and her child. He's so small, so pink. His eyes are closed, and he's bundled, so all I can see is his head, which is covered in thick, dark hair.

Tyler and Edward move around the other side of the bed, both mesmerised as Tyler recalls the story of how Lauren went into labor, laughing about how crazy and hectic and scary all of it was.

"Do you want to hold him?" Lauren asks me.

My first reaction is _no_. No, no, no.

But I shrug instead, looking to Edward and then the nurse for confirmation. The nurse instructs us to wash our hands before Lauren delicately hands Jack to me. They tell me to support his head and hold him close, so I do what they say. It's not the first time I've held a newborn, but it's the first time in a while, and it's weird.

I stare down at him. "Hello, Jack." He starts to stir, so I quickly pass him off to Edward, who apparently doesn't need any instruction on how to handle him. He's a _natural_ , the nurse says, watching my husband a little too closely. I don't usually get jealous, but something inside me brews as her eyes take in the sight of Edward holding a baby.

"—and seriously, it's like all of the pain just disappeared," Lauren says again, this time to Edward. "It was so worth it. I'm so in love."

Now it's my turn to watch Edward closely. To see how fondly he stares down at the baby in his arms. To feel the yearning practically radiating off of him. To gauge the way he smiles gently and speaks lowly when the baby slightly opens his eyes, staring up at him.

"He likes you," Lauren whispers.

"He's amazing," Edward says, just as quiet, making my chest ache and fill with an ugly feeling I can't control. A feeling I wish wasn't there, but it doesn't feel like it's ever going to leave.

I cough, excusing myself to the bathroom to get a minute alone because I'm scared that my expression will give away all of my thoughts. I flip on the light, glancing in the mirror only to find that I look the same, not a hint of resentment on my face. It's only when I return that Edward looks up and finds my gaze, but he doesn't hold it for long. Because _he knows_. He can see it.

XXX

"You never emailed me back. You can't possibly be that busy to not reply with a simple yes or no."

This is how my mother greets me when I answer my phone. She's always been one for getting right to the point.

"Actually, I have been busy," I say, grabbing dirty dishes from the counter and placing them in the sink. "Edward and I just got back from Aruba a week ago and—"

"I saw the pictures on Facebook."

"—I've been swamped at work."

"Well, don't let me keep you. I just need to know if you and Edward are coming for Thanksgiving or not."

I hold the phone between my ear and shoulder, turning on the water and filling the sink. I love this house, I do, but there's no dishwasher. And Edward, being his typical frugal self, doesn't think we need one.

"I don't know yet," I tell her.

"You've gone to Edward's mother's house the past two years. Can't you spare one holiday for us? The people who raised you?" She's laying it on thick. "Your dad wants to see you," she finally says.

My poor dad. I don't know how he hasn't fled from my mom. They've been married for the last thirty-six years, and he hasn't changed a bit. He's goofy and considerate and so nurturing. My mom, on the other hand, is cold and pushy and never pleased. It's sad, but I've drifted away from them over the years, gladly welcomed into Edward's family.

"I'll talk to Edward," I finally say.

A beat of silence, and then the real reason why she called: "I heard Alice is pregnant again."

I aggressively pour soap into the warm water. "You heard correct."

"That's wonderful news."

"It is. I gotta go, okay? I'll let you know what our plan is tomorrow."

I end the call before she has a chance to keep me any longer and do the dishes in silence.

XXX

When Edward gets home later that night, he finds me in the living room, half a bottle of wine in.

"Save some for me?" he jokes, kicking off his shoes.

I mute the TV. "This is what talking to my mother does to me."

He smiles, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with an empty glass for himself.

"That bad?" he asks. He's always had a soft spot for my mom, so getting him on my side is a struggle sometimes.

"She wants us to spend Thanksgiving at their house."

"Okay. We can do that, and then head to my mom's for dessert." I'm slightly irritated he agreed so easily. He must sense my annoyance because he says, "What?"

"I get that you love my parents, and they love you, but you're not the one who has to endure my mom's constant disapproval."

He pours himself some wine but leaves the glass on the coffee table, taking mine from my hand and setting it next to his.

"Bella." He sighs, gently pulling me over so I'm lying against him, my back to his chest. "She's not that bad."

"So last Christmas when she bought us baby clothes… that wasn't _bad_? And that one Thanksgiving when she said she researched my birth control and gave everyone at the table the gruesome details about how someone died from it? That wasn't awful." I sit up, reaching for my glass, facing him. "And the time we were out to dinner for your birthday and she gave you that card, saying how she adores you and wishes you would someday be the father of her grandchildren? That wasn't out of line."

He rubs my shoulder. "You let her get to you, and she knows it."

"Right. So why am I going to endure another year of torture?"

"Because she's your mom and she has good intentions, even if they're a bit unorthodox." I snort a laugh, but there's very little humor behind it. "What about your dad? It's not fair to avoid him because of her."

Edward's right, I know he is, and I feel myself starting to give in, mostly because I don't want this to become an argument. We've been doing so good, ever since Aruba. It's like all we needed was to get away and be ourselves again without anyone around.

I give him a sad smile. "Fine. We'll go for lunch, but if she starts her shit, we're gone."

"Okay."

"Seriously."

"I _seriously_ love you," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss me.

"I love you, too," I say against his lips before kissing him back. "Even if your positivity is annoying sometimes."

He grins, keeping his face close to mine. His tan is fading, but the freckles that appeared after being in the sun for a week are still there.

"I have to balance us out somehow."

I shake my head, laughing. "You deserve a fucking award."

"Nah. I got you. That's all I need."

XXX

I'm five steps into my parents' place before my mom greets me with a kiss to the cheek, paired with a snarky remark about my outfit. Apparently today's feast was meant to be a formal affair, but I wasn't informed. I never am.

"Oh, leave my girl alone," my dad insists, pushing his way past my mom to pull me into a hug. "I don't meet the dress requirements, either, but I'm still gonna eat some damn turkey."

I glance down at my dad's slippers and laugh. They're worn and goofy and so comfortably _him_.

"Hey there, fella," he says, patting Edward on the back.

"Hey, Charlie." Edward shoots my mom a smile. "You look great, as always, Renee."

My mom beams at this while air-kissing both of Edward's cheeks, something she picked up after my parents' trip to Europe last summer.

"Whatcha got there?" my dad asks, pointing toward the two casserole dishes Edward's holding, stacked on one another.

"Top one's broccoli and rice casserole, bottom is brussel sprouts with pork belly."

"We already have brussel sprouts," my mom announces, looking at me, like it's my fault I didn't read her mind.

I bite my tongue, shrugging. "Now we have more."

Edward tries his best to appease the situation, saying he found the recipe for brussel sprouts with pork belly and couldn't resist making it. My mom gives in, charming him with a smile before taking one of the dishes from his hands and guiding him into the kitchen.

"Psst." I tug on the lower part of Edward's shirt before he walks away. "Thank you," I whisper, kissing his chin.

My dad talks his way into the living room, plopping down in his chair. "The neighbors are coming over. And some people from your mom's knitting club. Can't for the life of me remember their names, but they're nice."

"Fascinating."

He gives me a look, which I'm guessing is meant to convey _play nice_. "That's why she wants today to be perfect."

"Shocking."

"Bella." My dad doesn't scold. He never has. He's always been a sensitive man. Most days, I'm aware he's a million times cooler than I am. He stays fit with a local running group, and just recently completed his third marathon. He always has a good joke up his sleeve and a goofy smile on his face. And on days like today, his adoration for my mother is apparent, even if his reasons are unbeknownst to me.

So I try my hardest to keep the edge out of my tone. "What?"

"She's trying, okay? Even if she gets a little kooky sometimes."

"How is she trying? I didn't wear the right thing, didn't bring the right casserole. She's always been hard on me. Always. Whenever I don't do something she expects me to do, I get chastised for it."

Charlie releases a sigh. "She's always wanted the best for you."

"She has a funny way of showing it."

The doorbell rings, bringing the conversation to an abrupt end. With a quick, knowing smile, Charlie stands from his chair, ruffles my hair, and leaves the room.

XXX

Despite my doubts, the conversation during dinner flows easily. That is, until it's time for dessert and my mom's knitting friend, Joyce, decides to whip out her phone and show everyone her new grandchild.

She passes the phone around the table, and Sue, my parents' neighbor, catches my eye.

"Your mother told me Alice is pregnant again," she says with a warm smile, gaze bouncing between Edward and me. "That's exciting."

"It is," I reply. "They're great parents."

"Their kids are adorable. When are you—"

Before Sue can finish her sentence, my mom interrupts.

"Bella. Will you help me gather everyone's plates?"

It's unlike her to jump in like that, for my sake, and I'm not sure if she realizes that's what she's done. Then again, my mother is nothing if not a woman of intention.

I stand, stacking Edward's plate on mine. He gives me a look, and I nod in silent agreement. He knows from past experiences to step in if it turns into a screaming match.

Grabbing a few more dishes, I push the kitchen door open, turn on the water and stick a finger under the tap to see if it's warm. The kitchen door swings open again. Renee walks in, adding a few more plates to the pile on the counter.

Without a word, she disappears, only to return seconds later, wine in hand.

"You don't have to wash those." She leans against the counter. "We have a dishwasher."

I scrape pumpkin pie into the trash under the sink. "I'll still rinse them, though."

She hums, sipping her wine, watching me. A minute or two passes and the silence eats me alive.

"Or am I doing this all wrong? Shall I put the plate at a forty-five degree angle under the water? I'm not sure of the perfect _Renee_ way to do it."

I glance over, check her reaction, watch her recoil at my words.

With narrowed eyes, she asks, "What's gotten into you?"

"Me? Nothing."

"Is it that much trouble for you to spend a holiday with us?"

"It's hard to spend time around you when you pick apart everything I do."

"I don't—"

"You gave me shit for what I was wearing. You gave me a look when I told you what we'd brought for dinner. You—"

She clicks her tongue. "You're being sensitive. I didn't mean anything by it."

My laugh is humorless. "Well, it seemed like you did. You're not the easiest person to please."

"Why on earth do you think that?"

I finish filling the dishwasher. She waits until I'm done before repeating the question.

"I don't know why I think that. Maybe every conversation we've had regarding kids and what I'm doing or not doing with my life gave me that impression." I've raised my voice, but take a deep breath before continuing. "Tell me. Honestly. Why do you hate the fact that I don't want to be a mom?"

She frowns, but it's not her typical scold. Sadness lingers behind it. "When I was younger, I wasn't that different from you. There was a point after your father and I got married that I was convinced I didn't want kids."

"When?"

"About a year after we'd wed. He was ready. But that was the scariest thing to me. We talked and we fought. I brushed it off and made excuses. Then it happened. I got pregnant. And your father was over the moon." She looks down, takes a sip of wine. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't. I was scared, and so young. I was only twenty."

"What happened?"

She inhales deeply. "I miscarried. And the next three times after that, I lost those babies, too."

Her words shock me. "I never… I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't. I didn't want you to. I started to put a lot of blame on myself. I didn't want kids, therefore my body was purposely rejecting them. That wasn't true, but it was all I could convince myself of."

We both fall quiet, and I can see in her face that she's time-traveled, back to those memories.

"That's awful, Mom," I whisper.

"We got through. But it took many years. Your father always stuck by me. Always. He never blamed me. Even in the moments when I doubted everything the most, he never once faltered. He was so adamant, and his love was so… palpable."

I've never heard my mom speak like this. Ever. Not about love, and especially not about my dad. Obviously I knew they loved each other, that's the kind of thing you assume after a couple's been together as long as they have.

"When I finally got pregnant the last time, I was so scared. I was paranoid and overly cautious. I know it drove your dad crazy."

"And then you had me."

She gives me a brief smile. "I swore to myself I would do everything perfect. I wouldn't take you for granted. And I'm guilty for letting that translate into nagging, I know. I just want your life to be perfect. I don't want you to go through what I did. It broke me."

Her acknowledgment is the closest thing to an apology, and I'm grateful. I feel some of the resentment I've held against her slip away.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. I really am." I pause. "But, Mom? If you didn't want kids at one point, why do you guilt me? You know exactly how I'm feeling."

"Because my reasons were just fears. And I'm worried it's the same for you."

"I'm not you. Of course I'm scared. But I'm also pissed because your backward way of helping doesn't work."

She gives me the tiniest, apologetic smile. "I never said I was the perfect mom. Being a parent is hard. I'm still not really sure what I'm doing, and it's been thirty-one years."

I open my mouth, but can't think of what to say. Her words are sincere, and I wasn't expecting this. Not at all.

"I'm sorry if I do things the wrong way, but I honestly do want you to be happy. I do. If not being a mom makes you happy, then that's that. But I see a lot of me in you. And a lot of your dad in Edward. And I worry so much that you're going to miss out on experiences, and you're going to miss out on Edward…"

"I'm not—"

"He called me. A couple of months ago. After you left that night."

"What?"

"Don't be mad. He was… torn up. He was devastated."

I blink away tears, and can't help feeling betrayed.

"So he told you. Everything."

"He did."

"Perfect. More people against me. I just—"

"Bella." She gives me a stern look. "No one is against you. No one. _You're_ the one against yourself. You're the one you need to face to get over this. Don't you see?"

Her words sober me.

"What did he say to you?"

"You need to talk to him," she says quietly. "And you need to think long and hard about what you want. If you want Edward. Because I'll tell you right now, that boy loves you more than anything. And he said if it came down to it, being with you or being a father, he would choose you. Every time."

I swipe a finger under my eye, trying to keep the tears from falling. But it's no use. My mom hands me a napkin. Sue walks in, catches on to what's happening, then immediately walks back out.

"Thanks for…" I blow my nose. "Talking. And I will. Talk to Edward, I mean."

"You know, your grandmother and I didn't get along very well. Not until I had you. It's like… you softened her up or something."

I let out a small laugh. "Really?"

"Really. You're the only thing I've done right."

I shake my head. "You don't have to say that."

"It's true. And your grandmother would've agreed. I've grown so much just by knowing you, raising you. It's been the most wonderful and trying experience of my life." She pauses, gently squeezing my hand. "I just don't want you to miss out on anything because you're stubborn like me, or because you think changing your mind isn't an option. There's _always_ an option. And an opportunity. And I don't have a single doubt in my mind that you'll choose what's best for the both of you."

XXX

It's a week before Christmas when Lauren reaches out. She texts, asking if I want to come over for coffee, and I tell her I'll stop by on my lunch break.

I haven't seen her or the baby since that day in the hospital, and I hate to admit that I didn't want to be the first to reach out. I was letting myself be petty, which felt good at first. Until it just felt weak, and cowardly. Suffice it to say, I'm happy she texted.

The air is frigid outside with the sky empty of clouds, leaving us with a clear and extremely cold day. The temperature is appreciated though, jolting me into a sense of alertness I was lacking in the warmth of my office.

When I get to Lauren's place after noon, and find myself staring at a note taped to their front door. _Baby sleeping, please don't ring bell_. Before I can even knock, the door is opening and Lauren is standing there with a friendly, but cautious smile.

"Smart of you to put that sign up," I say, my breath puffing out in little clouds as I speak.

"We've had a few disaster moments when Jack's been napping," she replies with a chuckle as she ushers me inside. "Coffee?"

"Please."

She disappears into the kitchen, and I set my bag and coat on the chair in the entryway. I stand awkwardly for a minute, taking in their place, scattered with baby contraptions, baby clothes, baby _everything_. Their house slowly started becoming more baby-friendly before she had Jack, but this is unlike anything I've ever seen. It's like Babies "R" Us exploded and the contents landed in their living room.

"I know, it's a disaster," Lauren says breezily, walking past with two mugs of coffee. "I do more laundry than I ever have before. There's always something to pick up, or clean. It's never-ending."

"Sounds… exhausting," I finally say, as we sit across from each other on separate couches. I feel something under me, and I pull out a small stuffed seal.

"We went to the aquarium last week, with Tyler's parents. Jack slept the whole time, but it was still fun."

"Oh." I know how not-so-fond she is of Tyler's family, so I'm surprised by this. "Are things good with them?"

Her smile is genuine. "Yeah. Things are better."

"That's really great."

"What's been going on with you?" she asks, glancing at the baby monitor next to her.

"Not much, I guess. We went to Aruba, that was fun." I almost tell her about the conversation with my mother, but stop myself.

"I saw the pictures you posted."

I stare at the ceiling. "Yeah."

Lauren finally says it: "Is this weird?"

"Very."

She lets out a small laugh, sounding like relief. "I thought it was just me. I'm sorry. I just… the way things ended with us the last time you were here… it's been on my mind a lot."

"It has?"

"Yes."

I tread lightly. "When we visited you at the hospital and I tried apologizing, you made it seem like you were over it."

"I mean, at that point I guess I was. I was about to give birth. You have to know I was going crazy. I couldn't focus on anything other than the way Jack pushed into my ribs and how I couldn't lay down comfortably."

"I didn't know. We weren't really talking at that point."

"God, I was a dick," she mumbles. "I'm sorry if I made it seem like our fight didn't affect me. It really did. And I'm glad you still came to the hospital, even after how horrible I was. I wish you'd been there with me before the delivery. And during, honestly. Tyler was helpful, but he did almost pass out at one point."

"Because you know, _Tyler_ had the hard job," I murmur, and we both laugh. "Honestly, it's probably for the best that I wasn't there. The whole birthing process kind of terrifies me."

She gives me a gentle smile. "I know. It scared me too. It's just different when you're in it, and it's all happening. It's a real test of giving up control. Parenthood in general too, I guess."

We fall silent, but Jack stirs and makes noises on the monitor. Once Lauren is sure he isn't fully awake, she clears her throat.

"Listen, I'm sorry for bringing up all that stuff about Edward talking to Tyler. The way I made it sound was… worse than it was. I was angry, and I'm sorry. That wasn't fair to you, or Edward."

"Thank you," I say sincerely. "And I'm sorry—"

"You already apologized. Please don't again, it'll make me feel worse."

"Alright."

"Did I really fuck things up between you and Edward?"

"No." I think about leaving it at this, but things feel a little more normal now, more like us, so I tell her the truth. "Of course, when I brought up what you said, we had a terrible fight. And then I left. For like, four or five days."

She drops her head into her hands. "God, I'm so sorry."

"But we talked, and things are okay. They're not perfect by any means. I honestly feel like we've kind of just bandaged the situation for now. And I'm scared about what's gonna happen when it gets pulled off." I pause slightly. "My mom and I talked on Thanksgiving. And she told me all of this stuff about how she didn't want kids, then kind of came around to the idea, and had years of trouble getting pregnant. It sounded awful."

Lauren moves to sit next to me on the couch. "Oh, Bella. That's terrible. But… it doesn't really excuse the way she's treated you… you get that, right?"

"Right. But it kind of helped me understand her motives a little better. As fucked up as it all is." My eyes tear up, and my throat grows heavy. "I'm really glad you reached out 'cause I feel like I'm having a really hard time. I don't think I want kids, but I'm scared if I someday change my mind, that I won't be able to and it'll be like my punishment for being so against it for so long."

"You can't think like that."

I swipe at my tears. " _Oh_ , but I do."

"Bella, why don't you want kids? Like really."

Reaching for a tissue on the coffee table, I wipe at my nose, and take a deep breath. "I don't… know. I've been so against it for so long, it just became this thing. Other than it being terrifying, and losing who I am, and seeing how all of my other friends who have kids are miserable—"

"Hey!"

"Not counting you," I murmur with a small laugh. "I love Edward so much. And then I'm supposed to give him this baby, that I'll end up loving more than him? That I'll put above him and myself, and lose sight of who we are as a couple? It's scary. I'm not ready."

"I don't think anyone is ever ready," she replies. "I'm not going to sit here and try to convince you to have a kid, I promise. Because you're right. You would love your baby more than Edward. As you should. You both would. But it's a different kind of love that you have for each other, Bella. And for a really long time, that kid would be all you talk about, think about. But you and Edward would be experiencing it together. You'd grow together. That makes it less scary. And so fucking worth it."

I sniffle, staring down at my lap. "God. I think I need to talk to him. _Really_ talk to him."

"I think so, too." She pauses. "Would you ever consider adoption?"

"I don't know. Adoption has its own set of complications, that I definitely don't know if we're up for. And if I'm being truly, deeply honest… if we ever did have a kid… I think I'd want it to be _ours_. Have Edward's features… hopefully not my stubbornness. His mother's compassion, and my mom's…"

"Tenaciousness?" Lauren offers, and we both laugh.

"Yeah. That."

"Well, damn," she says, searching my face.

"What?"

"I've never heard you say anything like that. Ever."

"Was it as weird to hear as it felt to say?"

"Honestly? Not even a little bit."

I groan in frustration. "I'm not changing my mind, I'm not. But if I _did_ … I don't want everyone who said I'd one day want kids to be like _I told you so_."

"Fuck 'em! This is your life. You can do whatever you want. Change your mind a million times. The only people it should matter to are you and Edward."

"I know," I mumble. "It's just hard to not care about what other people think."

"Well, _learn_ to not care. The other day I went to the store to buy a giant pack of maxi pads, ran into my ex while holding them, then realized afterward that my nipples decided to leak milk all over my shirt." We both crack up at this, my tears now ones of laughter.

"Lauren! How is this not the first thing you told me when I walked in?"

"I had other things to worry about first. Like making sure we were still friends."

"Screw that—we're family."

Lauren grins, picking up her coffee, clinking it against mine. "To family."

XXX

The holidays pass in a blur, like they always do.

We spend Christmas Eve with Edward's family, and Christmas Day with mine. My mom doesn't gift us any baby items, doesn't even really mention the topic, minus one small suggestion on where to get our stockings embroidered, in case we were to add another to our little stocking family. It wasn't subtle, but I let her have it.

Things feel okay, not perfect, but good enough. It's tempting to keep us here, just hovering at _good enough_. But ultimately I know that won't last. It never does.

I don't tell Edward about my chats with Lauren last week, or even the one with my mom over Thanksgiving. I lock the contents inside, playing their words over and over again, keeping them to myself for a little while longer, until I'm ready to bring it up again.

When New Year's Eve rolls around, we head to dinner in Wallingford instead of our usual spot in Belltown, hoping to avoid all the traffic that comes with the holiday. Lauren and Tyler join us last minute, and for a while it feels like old times. The only difference comes with Lauren stepping out every so often to check-in with the sitter, and when after-dinner drinks are suggested, they turn the offer down and head home to Jack.

After goodbyes are said and hugs are exchanged, we make plans to meet up in the new year, and everything feels like it's going to be okay.

"Should I get an Uber?" Edward asks after Lauren & Tyler have driven away.

A loud, infectiously happy group of people walk past us, hollering about this and that.

"Let's walk home," I suggest, reaching out for his hand.

We walk in silence for a block or two, before Edward slows our pace and pulls me closer.

"How about one last drink?" he murmurs close to my ear. It tickles, and I kiss his cheek before pulling back.

"I can handle one last drink," I concede. "Wanna go to Al's Tavern?"

"Too divey," he says as he begins walking again, keeping my hand in his. "I have somewhere else in mind."

"Oh, do you?" I pull my scarf up over my mouth, hiding my smile. I love him like this. When he's happy and spontaneous and slightly intoxicated. His vibe is infectious and my heart is so full and warm.

We walk another ten or so minutes, until I see the dimly lit restaurant up ahead. It's tucked away in the neighborhood, a little hidden gem. It's also the location of our first date, but I'm not sure he remembers. It feels like ages ago, and I'm suddenly struck with a sense of nostalgia—two strangers meeting up, with zero expectations, and their entire lives ahead of them.

Edward guides me by the hand as we walk through the restaurant. There aren't many people in here, and the ones who are seem to be finishing up their food, or sparsely sitting along the bar. We walk toward a booth in the back, which also happens to be the same one from our first date. It's romantic and secluded, and the look on Edward's tells me he _does_ remember.

I unwrap my scarf and pull off my coat. Edward takes them from me, lying them across one side of the booth. He keeps glancing at me, a small smirk on his lips, and I can tell he's in full charmer mode. He shrugs out of his coat and lays it with mine, before sliding into the booth next to me.

"Did you plan this?" I accuse.

"Sort of. I wanted to have dinner here, but then Lauren and Tyler joined last minute, so I switched our reservation. I wanted it to just be you and me here."

"I like when it's just you and me," I say, letting the double meaning linger. He angles his body toward me, right arm flush with the booth. "You didn't sit next to me on our first date," I tease. "What gives?"

He laughs. "You made me nervous."

"No way."

"Definitely. You weren't nervous?"

I think back, and shake my head. "I guess I just had a good feeling about us."

The waiter comes over; Edward orders scotch on the rocks, and I order a spicy Paloma. Despite the fact that it's after ten, I'm not as tired as I thought I'd be. We're usually in bed by now, but tonight feels different. Like something big is supposed to happen. Or maybe it's just the overall feeling that's associated with New Year's Eve.

"I'm glad things are okay between you and Lauren," Edward muses when we're alone again.

"Me too."

"Is she being serious when she says her New Year's Resolution is to sell her breast milk?"

"Oh, definitely. She's been telling me that since before she got pregnant. Did Tyler tell you that he tried her milk? He put it in his coffee. I wanted to die."

The waiter sets our drinks down, then disappears quickly, and we laugh even harder at what he might've heard.

I take a sip of my cocktail, humming in approval. "Speaking of resolutions, do you have one?"

"Definitely to find a new friend who doesn't drink his wife's breast milk."

I snort a laugh. "Touché."

"What about you?"

"Hm. I don't know." I pause, then, "Not really."

"Not _really_?"

"It's nothing."

"Come on," he pushes.

"It's not really a resolution. More like… I don't know. Stop being so hard on my mom? Maybe try to see her side of things. And hope in return she does the same for me."

Edward's eyes never leave my face. "I see."

I break eye contact, scanning the area. There's only one other couple in here now, and they're at the bar. The lights are dim, the music is low, reminiscent of our first date. We ended up being the last ones in the restaurant. They closed at midnight, so we eventually had to leave, but I swear we would've stayed all night if they let us. We were both eager to learn about one another, not wanting to break the spell of our connection. It's why he asked me out again the very next night. Because he wanted more time. So did I. And I don't think we'll ever stop wanting more time with each other.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask, emboldened by our memories and the tequila.

His face is so open, expectant. "Anything."

"Why did you change your mind? About kids? When we met, we were both so adamant. So what changed?" My words are rushed, and my stomach flutters with nerves. I'm scared for what this conversation will bring, but also anxious to let it finally happen.

His brows raise. "Honestly?"

"Yes."

"You made me change my mind."

"Me?"

The corner of his mouth lifts into a small smirk. "Yeah, _you_. I just… want to have a family. With you. That part is key for me. If for some insane reason we can't make this work, I'm not gonna go have a kid with someone else. I don't have the desire to do this with anyone else but you."

"That's a lot of pressure," I say quietly.

"It doesn't have to be."

"Raising a kid is a lot of pressure."

"Right. But I think we'd be able to handle it. I mean… look at all of our houseplants. They're _thriving_."

I roll my eyes, laughing. "Shut up."

"Okay, okay." His laughter fades and he turns serious. "Can I tell you something?"

"Yes."

"About a year ago, I was jogging past the cemetery by our house. I've never actually stopped to read any of the tombstones. But there was one that caught my eye. There were two names engraved on it, and underneath it read _just the two of us_." Edward pauses, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. "I'd be lying if I said it didn't shake me."

I think back, noting the time frame and when the baby conversation started to pop up. "Is that what started all of this?"

"A little, I guess."

I drain the rest of my drink. "I don't really know what to say."

Edward studies me. "Did hearing that freak you out?"

"I guess I don't understand. You want to have a kid, to _spread your seed_ per se, because you fear mortality?"

"It wasn't just that. I could see everything in that moment. I saw us, together, traveling, being financially secure, drinking coffee in peace every morning. Everything was stable." He stops, smiles. "And then I saw the kids. Everything was messy, loud, a complete wreck. I could see us running late for work, spilled coffee, getting gum out of one kid's hair, while the other's running around wearing two different types of shoes. It was _chaos_. And it didn't scare me."

My eyes blur with tears, but I force out a small laugh, trying to disguise my emotion. It's ridiculous, but I can partly see it, too. Not as clearly as he can. I don't feel it as deeply. But the image is there.

"The first scenario is our current life," I murmur, swiping under my eye with my thumb. "Is that not fulfilling? You need chaos?"

"That's not what I meant. Please don't be upset."

"I'm not upset. I'm just… my eyes. They leak sometimes."

Edward's laugh is soft. "We can stop talking about this."

I take a deep breath. "It's okay."

He regards me for a second. "The fact that we're able to sit here and talk about this, without either of us getting defensive or upset, is a huge step. I just want us to communicate and be honest with each other."

He's right. It _is_ a huge step. And just another reminder that he's my person.

"This conversation is definitely not over," I say.

"But it's a start."

"I want us to be able to be honest, too. I know nothing's… resolved, but I already feel so much better just talking about it with you." I lean in close, kissing him hard. "I love you," I mumble against his lips. "Even though you compared raising a child to _not_ killing houseplants."

"I love you, too. No matter what," he murmurs, his forehead pressed against mine. "No matter what you decide. I've already decided on you. So that part isn't negotiable."

We finish our drinks, then lazily walk the few blocks home, making it there just before midnight.

The house is dark, quiet. I forgot to set the timers on the lights, so the place feels entirely too empty. The feeling lingers even after the lamps are on, and the fireplace is lit.

"Three minutes to midnight," Edward announces, walking into the kitchen, unbuttoning his shirt along the way. "Should we toast?"

I unzip my boots and curl up on the couch, throwing a blanket over me as I turn on the TV. The ball's minutes away from dropping as I hear the bottle of champagne pop.

Edward reappears, and I lift part of the blanket, making room for him to join me.

"What should we toast to?" he asks, handing me a full glass, eyes twinkling.

I think for a second, then give him a small, hopeful smile. "To chaos."

XXX

The End


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